


Scavenger's Luck

by QuickSilverFox3



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Courting Rituals, Courting Through Murder, M/M, Male My Unit | Reflet | Robin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:48:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29982411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickSilverFox3/pseuds/QuickSilverFox3
Summary: Robin doesn't know for sure who is leaving animal bones as gifts in his tent. But he has a fairly good idea.
Relationships: Henry/My Unit | Reflet | Robin
Kudos: 10





	Scavenger's Luck

Robin woke with a groan, feeling the early morning sunlight pierce into his eyes, and rolled over, dragging the blanket back over his head. The air hung heavy with the scent of lavender — the tiny dried flowers crushed beneath his chest as he moved — but there was a faint and unavoidable scent of iron clinging to everything. 

The bedding was borrowed, as everything he owned was, and Robin pressed his feet into one of many patched holes at the bottom, breathing out plumes into the freezing air. His thoughts sharpened from the haze of sleep even as he entertained the idea of pulling the blanket back over his head and sinking back into the comfortable darkness. Shifting once more — the loose rocks managing to worm their way into the hollow of his hip through the ground cover — Robin’s hand brushed against the hard leather cover of the tome he had been found with.

His eyes ached at the thought of even looking at one of the pages again following the long hours spent with his nose mere inches away from the page, staring at the faded copper green ink. Instead, Robin raised himself just enough to study the inside of his tent — an odd sense of anticipation settling across his shoulders — putting off the final moment when he would have to get up to start the day.

It was a small tent, the walls sagging with the dew that cast strange shadows across the dark groundsheet. At times, Robin would catch himself watching the shadows as if he was expecting something of them, but they remained still and motionless. Apart from a single chest — given to him by Frederick and lined with a thick fur — Robin owned very little. The edges of the tent were still cloaked in shadow, but Robin could just make out the shape of his chest, and the wrapped parcel that lay on top of it. 

He couldn’t deny that his heartbeat picked up at the sight of it, a faint flush burning across his cheeks, and Robin pushed himself to his feet. His joints cracked at the movement, his steps unsteady as the muscles in his legs protested, but he ignored them. Presents were unexpected, a rarity even before he lost his memory, or at least, he thought so. 

The packaging was neat and the bow on top was perfectly symmetrical, the care sending waves of warmth flooding through Robin’s chest as he stroked a careful finger across the top. He fancied he could still feel the warmth from his secret gift-givers hands and couldn’t hold back the smile that blossomed across his face. Inside lay what was at first glance, a tangled mess of bones. They were neat and white, with a careful hole bored in one end through which was threaded a thin metal wire. As Robin picked them up — careful of cutting himself on the deceptively sharp wire this early on in the day — the bones swung, knocking together in a discordant musical sound. 

“Beautiful,” Robin murmured, drawing the necklace over his head and smoothing his hands over the bones where they lay against his undershirt. 

He knew who it was that was sending him gifts. 

Everyone in the army was distinct, but Robin could only think of one man who would send him bones.

Later in the morning, when Robin would emerge from his tent in search of breakfast, he would be able to feel the steady pressure of eyes on him, hear the gentle flapping of dark wings as Henry drew closer. Henry’s hands were always so cold, but Robin welcomed the chill as the dark mage approached — a moth drawn to the flame and uncaring of if he would be burnt or not, welcoming it. Their hands never touched, except for the barest brush of skin, but that was enough.


End file.
